


The Quieter You Become

by bayloriffic



Category: Life
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-19
Updated: 2011-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 21:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayloriffic/pseuds/bayloriffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That mean you don’t want to be here with me?” she asks. <em>Post-One</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quieter You Become

After everything with Nevikov, Dani only takes one day off. She doesn’t even want to take that, but they hold her overnight in the hospital and, by the time she’s released, it’s too late to go to work. Too late to do much of anything other than just drive herself home to her empty, quiet apartment.

Everywhere she goes, the musty smell of the bag haunts her, the scent of stale sweat and old blood hanging heavy and thick in the air around her. She can still feel the scratchy fabric against her cheek, the way it rubbed against her skin, rough enough that she thought it might scratch right through. The side of her mouth still throbs from the punch and her lip is raw and tender and no matter what she does, she can't get the taste of blood out of her mouth.

She takes a lot of showers. She watches a lot of really bad TV, talk shows and ridiculous crime procedurals that mostly just piss her off. She cleans her apartment, scrubbing down all the counters and floors until her fingers are red and numb.

She doesn’t think about how a good a drink would taste, about the warm, comforting burn of liquor sliding down her throat, that oblivion that's just a few quick shots away.

**

She puts up with Tidwell for one week. One week of concerned glances and gentle touches and twice-nightly phone calls to check up on her. One week before she finally tells him to fuck off and leave her the hell alone.

**

The first two weeks back, she’s stuck on desk duty. Even though he's been cleared, Crews doesn't go out without her, just spends two weeks working silently across from her, like being cooped up inside for so long doesn't bother him at all.

They type up case reports and file warrants. He eats his weight in fruit. She drinks cup after cup of coffee. Neither one of them mention Nevikov.

**

Her first day back on active duty, Tidwell puts her and Crews on a stakeout. It’s a complete waste of time—some low-level drug dealer, not even one of their cases—and Reese can’t help but feel like he’s testing her. Trying to make a point, even if she's not sure what the hell it is.

But for some reason, she doesn't argue with him about it. She figures maybe it's the least she can do.

**

“This is pointless,” Reese says, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel of their standard-issue Taurus. There’s late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windshield, filling up the car and turning Charlie’s hair an even brighter shade of orange.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have taken my car,” Crews says, squinting out the windshield into the sun. He’s been driving the Maserati again. She’s not sure why.

Dani sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Because a bullet-ridden Maserati isn’t exactly inconspicuous, Crews.”

“But that’s exactly why we should have taken it,” he says in his best zen-voice. “It’s so particularly conspicuous that no one would suspect it.”

“Crews?” She can’t believe she’s this annoyed already. It’s been twenty-eight minutes. They have six and a half more hours to go.

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.”

**

“You’re not asleep are you?” she asks.

Crews hasn’t said a word in the past hour. His head is tipped back, resting on the headrest, and Dani thinks his eyes might be closed behind his sunglasses.

“You know what I love about the ocean?” he says, instead of answering. Dani sighs and rolls her eyes so hard her head hurts. She doesn’t say anything and he just keeps talking. What a surprise. “I love the way it sounds. Like it’s alive. Like it’s whispering to you. Like it’s telling you a secret.”

He tilts his head a little, like he can hear the waves over the roar of the traffic on the freeway.

“You can’t hear the ocean from here,” she points out. They’re at least ten miles from the closest beach, sitting in an alley in an especially run-down part of L.A.

Crews shrugs, just the slightest movement of his shoulders, and closes his eyes again, a flicker behind the glasses. He doesn’t say anything else.

Five minutes pass. Ten.

Finally: “Is this that thing where you pretend to be somewhere else?” she asks, annoyed.

He opens his eyes and looks at her like he’s surprised. “Yeah,” he says. “It is that thing.”

Dani nods and waits until he closes his eyes again. “That mean you don’t want to be here with me?”

Charlie sits up straight, pushing his sunglass up on to his head and blinking at her. “No,” he says. “I want to be here with you.”

Dani forces herself not to smile, biting down a little on the inside of her lip, right on the spot where Nevikov hit her. It’s been two weeks since it happened. It should have healed by now, but it’s still raw and painful and she hisses and winces before she can stop herself.

Charlie looks at her sidelong. She can see the muscles in his jaw working and she knows he wants to say something, ask her if she’s okay.

She waits, but he doesn’t say anything. So she just keeps her eyes on the warehouse as they sit there in silence, her mouth slowly filling with the coppery-sick taste of her own blood.

**

She wakes up with a start, gasping for breath, her heart racing so fast it feels like it's going to beat right out of her chest. The sick, putrid smell of the bag Nevikov put over her head surrounds her, makes her feel like it's covering every inch of her body.

Charlie's not looking at her and for one absurd moment she wonders if he can smell it, too. He's staring straight ahead, at the empty alley in front of them, but his face is hard and tense, the lines around his mouth stark in their whiteness. There’s a spot on her shoulder that feels strangely warm and she wonders if it’s because of him. If he reached out and shook her awake.

“You all right?” he asks, not looking over at her, giving her time to regroup maybe. It’s the first time he’s asked her that since Nevikov, and his jaw is clenched so tight it’s making his voice sound strange.

“I’m great,” Dani says, breathing out slowly through her nose, keeping her eyes wide open, willing herself to sound normal. She doesn’t quite pull it off, but Crews doesn’t call her on it, so. That makes her feel a little better somehow.

It’s the little victories that count, she guesses.

**

“You want to play twenty questions, Reese?”

Dani runs a hand through her hair and looks out the window. “Not really.” She hasn’t fallen asleep again, but that smell is even stronger now and she feels like she might be sick.

“Come on,” Crews says and she wonders if he learned that voice—that fake-cheerful tone, the one that sets her teeth on edge—in prison, or if he was like that before. “It’ll be fun.”

Dani highly doubts that. She looks at the clock on the dashboard. They have four hours and thirteen minutes before they can go. “Crews,” she says, looking over at him, a warning.

“I’ll go first,” he says, like she’s already agreed to play. “Hit me whenever you’re ready.” He’s still got his sunglasses off and he's staring right at her, and his eyes are very blue, even in the fading evening light.

Dani blows out a sigh and turns back to the window. There’s still no movement in the warehouse. She knows he’s going to wear her down eventually so she closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Is it a fruit?” she asks. She can’t believe she’s doing this.

“It is,” he says, sounding so happy she wants to smack him.

“What a surprise,” she mumbles, just loud enough for him to hear. He ignores her.

“Nineteen questions to go,” he says, looking out the window towards the warehouse and squinting out into the darkness.

Dani forces herself not to sigh again. “Is it red?” she asks.

“Is it red,” Charlie repeats thoughtfully. “Yes. Parts of it are red.”

“Parts of it are red?”

“Parts of it are red.”

“What parts of it are red, Crews?”

“Only yes or no questions, Reese,” he admonishes her.

She doesn’t bother arguing with him, just rocks her head back, pressing it into the headrest behind her while she thinks. “Are parts of it orange?” she asks eventually.

“Parts of it are orange-ish,” he says, seriously.

Dani thinks she might punch him. Instead, she closes her eyes, counts to ten. “That wasn’t a yes or no,” she finally says.

“Huh,” he says. “You’re right.”

She smiles a little despite herself and he reaches out and taps her gently on the knee with the back of his knuckles. “Next question.”

Dani looks at his fingers; they're very, very white against the dark blue of her jeans. For just a second, she wonders what he would do if she reached out and held his hand. Twined their fingers together and just held on.

When she looks up, Charlie's staring right at her. His head is tilted in that way he has when he's figured out a suspect's lying. She looks away and clears her throat, feeling weirdly caught. "Okay," she says, trying to get her bearings. “Parts of it are red and parts of it are orange.”

“Orange-ish,” he corrects her. “Or, well, actually. Not orange-ish. Peach-ish, really.”

Dani sighs. “Is it a peach, Crews?” she asks.

“Hey," he reaches over and playfully punches her on the arm and she resists the urge to smile. "You got it.”

He grins at her and pulls a peach out of his pocket. She honestly doesn’t know how he can walk around like that, like some kind of human fruit stand.

He takes a bite of fruit and she just watches him, the way he teeth break the firm skin, some of the juice dripping down the freckled skin of his wrist. After just a couple of seconds, the car smells like fruit, that musty smell that’s been following her around the past few weeks suddenly gone.

“Want a bite?” Charlie asks. The corners of his mouth are curved up in a not-quite smile, and Dani can see the muscles in his jaw working as he chews.

Dani stares at him, at the peach he’s holding out and not expecting her to take. Other than the places he's bitten, it looks perfect, totally unbruised and undamaged, even though it’s been crammed into his jacket for at least four hours.

“Yeah, okay,” she says, making a decision. She reaches over and lets her fingers linger against his a few seconds longer than necessary before she plucks the half-eaten piece fruit out of his hand.

“Oh,” he says and he’s smiling like he means it. “Okay.”

The peach is fuzzy and slightly firm in her hand. She bites into it, her mouth right on the spot his was just a few seconds before, and the juices trickle down her fingers, sticky and warm.

She can feel Charlie's eyes on her. He's sitting perfectly still, watching her and this look on his face like he's not really sure what she's going to do next.

When she finally leans over and kisses him, his lips are dry and he tastes like peaches, sweet and a little tart, and somehow it's nothing like Reese thought it would be.

**

end


End file.
